Veni, Vidi, Vici
by AnnetheV
Summary: Veni, Vidi, Vici: "I came, I saw, I conquered." The death of a Rebellion, the re-enslavement of the Twelve Districts of Panem, and the start of the very first annual Hunger Games as seen through the eyes of Antony Everdeen, a fifteen year old boy from District Twelve. "You say that the Dark Days have ended, but to me, they've only just begun." OC-centric, rated Teen for a reason
1. Preface

**A/N: Hi everyone! This is my second Hunger Games fanfic, so I thought I'd tackle a topic that has been bothering me since I first read the Hunger Games: The Rebellion and the very first Games. So yeah, as it says in the summary, this fic is "OC-centric", which means that this story will be focused on original characters that I created. I couldn't really use actual HG characters anyways because this takes place about 74-75ish years before the first book.**

**Anyways, thanks for clicking on the link to this story and I hope you enjoy it!**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: cussing, death**

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**Preface**

* * *

"Sorry, but I can't let you live." I say the words as I lock the door, making sure I hear the click of the tumblers before turning back to the man who used to be known as General Casca.

"W-Why? What have I ever-?" Casca pales when he sees me pull out my knife from its sheath at my hip.

I twirl the knife around in my hands lazily, pretending for a second that I don't care that this man caused my mother and three sisters to die. Then I change my mind and speak, letting my anger leak into my words. "Don't play dumb. You know perfectly well what you did. You sold Base 68 out to the Capitol forces, you filthy bastard!"

"I-I had no choice! They threatened-" He stumbles over his own words, backing up as far away from me as this small room will allow. I can see the fear in his face and I relish it, imagining for a fleeting moment that my mother and my sisters would be proud of me for what am about to do, even though I know otherwise.

"I don't care what they threatened to do! What you did was inexcusable! You caused fifty of our men to die! Traitors like you shouldn't be allowed to live!" I use the deaths of the other forty-six people of Base 68 as another excuse for my actions, even though I could care less about avenging their deaths.

"No-No, please! Please don't-" He might as well be talking to a deaf person for all the effect his words have on me. I raise the knife, and he screams.

"You should have thought about this _before_ you gave that information to the Capitol." I make sure to look straight into Casca's eyes as I shove the knife into his forehead, watching the fear and pain cloud his vision as he dies. I keep my eyes trained on his, my grey ones locked on to the cloudy blue of his, branding his face into my memory.

It is when his eyes lose something deep in their depths that I know to yank the knife back out and shove the body away from me. That traitor isn't the first man that I've killed, and I can almost guarantee that he won't be the last.

"Serves you right." I speak to the corpse without thinking, and instead of stopping myself, I continue with my little apostrophe. "You sold them out to the Capitol. You betrayed them-you betrayed us all without so much as a second thought. We trusted you, Casca." I scream and punch his face, large droplets of blood spurting out of his nose, mouth, and eyes. "I trusted you! My mother trusted you! And you just let her die, you bastard!" I stop my tirade before I can cry, pulling my hands away from him. "Casca…"

I kick his face without putting my force into the movement. There is no point in sparing any further emotion towards the empty container. It's almost funny how easily our lives are extinguished despite how hard we try to keep ourselves alive. At least, it would be funny if only I could get the images of my mother and my sisters out of my head.

Their memories haunt me, and I know they haunt my father too. It hurts to think about them, and I know that they wouldn't want me to be sad because of them. My mother would be ashamed of me of crying over their deaths. They knew the risks of this Rebellion when it first started, and they all knew that anything they did could be the_ last_ thing they ever did.

* * *

"Antony." My father's voice startles me, and I drop my spoon, splashing hot soup onto my face and the table.

"Father!" I hastily wipe up the spilled soup, throwing the napkin into a trashcan behind me. "Do you want something?"

He nods and sits down in the seat across from me, causing a few other table's other occupants to shift uneasily in their seats. "Antony, did you kill General Casca?"

I flinch instinctively. I hadn't expected him to be so blunt. "I…Sorry Father. I didn't mean to."

He shakes his head gruffly at me, his eyes admonishing my words. "Of course you meant to. No one ever kills without meaning to. There's always been a bit of maliciousness inside of you, Antony, but I hand't thought you capable of killing someone."

I bit my bottom lip before answering. If I say the wrong words, I could be punished. "I couldn't just sit by and not do anything, Father. He told the Capitol the location of Base 68!" A few people in the cafeteria look up at the mention of the fallen Base, their anguish clear on their faces.

My father shakes his head at me. "Calm down, boy. No need to get so defensive. I understand your motives, but we could have handled the General ourselves. The execution squad was fully prepared to deliver his sentence."

"But-"

"But nothing." My father stands, his eyes focused on some place above my own. He has never, in all the fifteen years I have been alive, looked me in the face. "You only killed him for some petty shot at revenge. If you ever pull something like that again, Antony, I will personally see to it that you are punished just like any murderer would be."

I gulp. To be tried as a murderer by my own father…especially at a time of devastation like this…it is a fate that I can't afford. "Yes, Father. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'll try to control my emotions better next time."

"For your sake I hope you do." He marches away, leaving a silent cafeteria in his wake.

My father is the (current) head of the Rebellion Against the Capitol. The old leader of this Rebellion was a woman in District Thirteen, but ever since that District got annihilated, my father has lead our forces against the Capitol. However, I've heard a few rumors that District Thirteen didn't actually get destroyed, that they made some sort of bargain with the Capitol for their own safety, and abandoned us other Districts.

The thing is, I wouldn't be surprised if those rumors turned out to be true. The people of Thirteen were pretty scary people, and the majority of them were obsessed with self-perseverance. It would have been very smart of them to play it safe and just leave us to our own devices.

But I'm worried. Without the support and resources that Thirteen had provided, it will be difficult for us to win this fight against the Capitol. We may have the upper hand when it comes to numbers and resources, but the people of the Capitol are resourceful and they have superior technology. They are constantly coming up with muttations for us to fight against, and between the Tracker Jackers and the JabberJays, going outside our military bases has become exceedingly difficult.

Our commanding officers have gotten desperate enough to enlist kids like me in the military, and I've seen some children as young as ten years old carrying bazookas and machine guns out onto the battlefield. It disgusts me to think that these kids are already experiencing the horrors of their first kill and their dying comrades. It just shows how far the Capitol has pushed us.

It just shows how far these men are willing to go to defy the Capitol.


	2. I

**A/N: And here is Chapter One. Enjoy!**

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: mild cussing**

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**I**

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Before the Rebellion, I had never seen a corpse. District Twelve may have been a rotten place to live in when I was younger, but at least it hadn't been littered with random debris and the dead, like the way it is now. It was a quiet place and the Capitol, for the most part, ignored us. It wasn't until that first gunshot five years ago that everything turned bad. It wasn't until that trigger was pulled that everything changed.

It's almost funny to think that I used to be a quiet, soft-spoken kid. The "past me" would never have killed General Casca, even if he betrayed Base 68 to the Capitol. But five years of living in a war-torn country has changed me. In these past five years I have lost all of my baby fat - exchanging my chubby cheeks and soft limbs for hardened muscles and killer reflexes, I have seen many people die, I have lost my mother and my three sisters, and in these past five years I have killed fourteen people.

It's safe to say that I am a completely different person than I was five years ago. These years of living in the middle of this Rebellion have made me nearly unrecognizable.

Sometimes I wish I could go back, to just be able to turn back the clock and re-live those years before the Rebellion.

* * *

"Mr. Antony Everdeen?" I jump when I hear the voice, my hand flying to my sheathed knife before I remember that I am still at Base 62 and not in the middle of a battlefield.

"Yes?" I release my grip on my knife and face the person: a stony face girl about my age, her grey eyes, olive skin, and dark hair telling me that she's from _my_ district. Unfortunately, even with that knowledge, I still have no idea who she is. I just can't place her.

She smiles at me a bit before answering my, but I can tell that her smile is forced. "Commander Everdeen sent me to get you, sir. He said that he has something to discuss with you."

I scowl at her and turn my head to look down the long stretch of white hallway, wondering if I can make it out of the building before my father realizes that I'm gone. Probably not. This building used to be a bank before the Uprising, and it still has functioning security cameras and locked gates. Damn. I guess there's no escaping this one. "Fine. Lead the way, missy."

The girl returns my scowl but doesn't dare say anything back. She's too afraid of making the Commander's son mad, I guess. Figures. She's just like all the rest of the spineless kiss-ups here. They all just want to get on my father's good side, even if it means sacrificing their own pride and kowtowing him all the way to the Capitol. Pathetic. At least if the Capitol wins this war people will finally stop idolizing my father.

I follow the girl whose name I don't know down the other end of the hallway, running my left hand lazily along the circular curve of the wall as we walk. This bank used to be the pride and joy of my district's old mayor. And now the white of the walls and the floor are stained with blood and dirt, just like all of us Rebels.

"Here we are. Umm, Mr. Everdeen, sir." The girl makes a small bowing movement towards me in apology for momentarily forgetting to address me by my title and gestures to a singed door on her right side. She trembles a bit as I look at her, probably expecting some sort of punishment.

I sigh. "Thanks, missy." I turned the handle and shut the door in her shocked face, relishing the surprise on it before I face my father. "Hi, Dad. You wanted to see me?"

"Address your elders properly, son. Especially the highest ranking officer - "

I interrupt my father. "You're only considered a high rank to the Rebels. To me and to the people of the Capitol, you're just one person." I'm so tired of his ego. Actually, I am just tired of my father in general.

"Show some respect for your father, _boy_!" My father spits out the last word with so much venom that you would think that it was some sort of curse word. "I will not be treated this way by anyone, least of all you. Fix your mistake _right now_!"

I hesitate. Should I risk insulting him further, or should I apologize? Should I keep taking more crap from my dad, or should I grovel like everyone else is? "Sorry, Father." I say, reluctantly bowing. I think it is better to apologize now than risk getting in a bigger fight with him. I may be his son, but that won't stop him from punishing me just like he would punish anyone else with the gall to speak to him like I've been doing.

"That's better." My father waves his hand towards the chair near me, across from his. In between the two chairs is a five foot long table with a map of Panem on it, the most accurate map I've seen in ages. There are marking and miscellaneous coins scattered across the map, probably marking military bases of both the Capitol and Rebel forces and the locations of various battalions of soldiers, or mutts, or other unknown risks.

I sit down, studying the map as much as I can, trying to save the image in some part of my brain for future reference. "What is this, Father?" I ask, trying to play dumb. The more information I can milk out of him, the better.

My father chuckles at me and takes his time before answering. "Now, now, Antony. Did you really think that I would fall for that petty attempt? Try to do better next time."

"Dammit." I swear under my breath, covering up the word with a cough that is just as forced as the girl's smile was earlier. "Then, Father, why did you send for me?"

"There's something I need to confide in you, Antony. You're the only one I can trust to keep this information between the two of us." My father must be really stressed out to want to confide anything in me. We trust each other about as much as a the Capitol trusts the screwy information the JabberJays have been giving them lately. That is to say, we don't. The only reason my father would tell me anything important would be if he was mentally "freaking out".

I lean forward in my seat, trying to make my face seem as sincere as possible. "What is it, Father? What's going on?"

My father actually puts his face in his hands, possibly to cover up the anguish I can feel radiating from him. "I…We're losing this war."

"WHAT?" I stand up too suddenly, and my chair falls over backwards, clattering loudly against the white tiled floor, leaving dark marks where it touches. "What do you mean we're losing? Just last month you told us that we'd beat the Capitol in no time! You said we were winning!" I glare at him, forgetting who he is what respect he demands. "Did you lie to us?"

My father looks up at me, his eyes filled with sorrow for once, his true emotions peeping out from behind his thick mask - it's cracking, just like mine is, just like the cracks on the white tile floor, filled with blood and grime and everything we're too afraid to say out loud. "That was before we were abandoned by District Thirteen."

"Abandoned?" I whisper, fear clutching at my heart. "You mean they really did abandon us? They weren't blown to smithereens?"

"Of course they weren't!" My father slams a fist into the table, his eyes filled with those cracks - the death of his wife and three daughters, the distrust of his only son, the weight of the entire Rebellion on his shoulders, the responsibility for all of the deaths, and the knowledge about District Thirteen. "They made an agreement with the Capitol."

"But that means…" I bite my lip. "They didn't think that we would win, did they?"

He shakes his head. "Brenda Frost warned me that we would lose, but I didn't listen. How could I, when all of these people…?"

"Dammit." I say it louder this time, my nails digging into the table an a part of the map. Brenda Frost, the old leader of the Rebellion from District Thirteen herself, had warned my father that we would lose. She was a brilliant military tactician, and if she couldn't see any way to win this war, then how could my father possibly hope to win? "This isn't good. Districts One and Two are still sided with the Capitol, and I heard from General Lepidus that District Four is considering allying itself with the Capitol."

My father shakes his head and buries it in his hands again, his words coming out all muffled when he talks. "Those rumors are a bit stale, son. Four has already allied itself with the Capitol. District Three is still neutral, but with the way this war is going, it won't have to stay neutral for much longer. It's only a matter of time before the Capitol overpowers us."

"But what about the scouts we sent for the direct invasion of the Capitol? Did they report back yet?" I remind him, a small seed of hope wriggling around in my heart. "Do you think they - "

"They were easy targets for the hovercrafts." My father shakes his head. "The Capitol is surrounded by those mountains, and getting to it is nearly impossible."

"Then what can we do?" I pull my chair back up, sitting in stand glaring at the map of Panem as if it can give me any answers. "What can we do, Father?"

He shakes his head again, the despair cutting deep lines into his visage. "Nothing. All we can do is wait."


End file.
